


two slow dancers, we could stay the same

by andchaos



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: College, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: “Mac,” he says slowly, an awful smile curling his mouth, “do you not know how to dance?”So Dennis teaches Mac how to slow dance.





	two slow dancers, we could stay the same

**Author's Note:**

> @hyruling: you can’t just say ‘dennis taught mac to slow dance’ and not follow up with a 100k fic dedicated to that topic. like ik others have but u can’t it’s actually illegal
> 
> me:

The sun is beginning to set, low over the tree line. Mac throws another empty can of beer over the Reynolds’s fence where he’s splayed out on the lawn. Dennis watches it sail across its mark and laughs, turning into Mac’s side and ducking his face into his shoulder, his closed fist pressing warm and big into Mac’s ribs as his body shakes.

“You gotta stop doing that,” Dennis says, even though he’s still grinning when he pulls back. “The neighbors are gonna be pissed off when they find your little stockpile in their trees and bushes or whatever.”

“Tell them,” says Mac, leaning back on his hands, “to suck my dick.”

Dennis snorts.

“I’ll relay that message,” he says solemnly, and slugs back the rest of his can.

Mac watches him crush it in his fist and drop it to the side of the blanket that they’re lying on, that they dragged out to the backyard earlier this afternoon along with their twelve-pack, a stack of sandwiches that Charlie’s mom made them (and which Charlie left behind when he followed Dee to her girls’ night out earlier, because that waitress he likes is supposed to be going since she’s dating one of Dee’s old high school friends now, Ingrid), and the Reynolds’s cat who is currently digging up the earth beneath Barbara’s favorite rosebush.

Mac drops onto his forearms and sighs, closing his eyes and tilting his face up at the streaky orange sky.

“I’m gonna stay here tonight,” says Mac.

He peeks an eye open to double check, and sure enough, Dennis is looking at him. When he gets caught, Dennis flushes and looks away.

“Thought you had a date, bro,” he says, studying his childhood swing set across the yard.

Mac shrugs. “Not in the mood anymore.”

“Seriously?” Dennis’s head rolls onto his shoulder to blink at him, squinting accusatorily. Now Mac is the one to blush and avoid eye contact. “That girl — what’s her name? Aubrey something. She’s like a ten, bro. Tall, brunette, _great_ rack. Frankly, I’m surprised you convinced her to go out with you at all.”

“Fuck you,” Mac says, though not heatedly. He flicks some grass lying on their blanket at Dennis’s bare legs, lower lip jutting as he pouts.

Dennis laughs. “Just saying. Why would you pass that up?”

Mac rolls his eyes. He steals Dennis’s beer, since his grip his loose enough around it, and ignores Dennis’s faint protests as he takes a drink. The lip of the can is still a bit damp, slicked with Dennis’s saliva. Mac doesn’t think about it as he takes more sips, basks in the beer washing down through his system. His hands and bare feet are beginning to feel warm.

“Mac,” Dennis sighs.

It’s that special voice he gets sometimes. Exasperation can’t entirely mask the rest of it underneath: softness and tenderness, something Mac has never heard anywhere else, and never heard Dennis use on anyone but him. When he says his name like that, he sounds like sunsets and rosebuds and the middle of a long summer, all fresh and full of promise because they’re still pretending he doesn’t have to go back to college in a couple of months.

Mac doesn’t mind it when Dennis is at college — he’s used to it by now, but it still takes an adjustment period every fall after being glued to each other’s sides for so many weeks in a row. The summer always seems so endless that the time blends together, day in and out of seeing each other without breaks. Even when Mac has work, Dennis spends his days hanging out at the corner shop, chatting with him and heckling the customers and ordering Slurpee after Slurpee so that Mac’s boss doesn’t kick him out for loitering. Dennis keeps telling him that he doesn’t mind bankrolling him while he’s around, but Mac will still need some pocket money when Dennis heads back for junior year in September.

“I don’t want to go out with Aubrey,” says Mac, grimacing. “She’s making me take her out _dancing_. Like, one of those dimly lit bars with the nice music and shit. I don’t wanna fucking dance, bro. I wanna stay here and get drunk.”

“I’m sure they have drinks wherever you’re going,” says Dennis, waving a hand dismissively. He holds a hand out for his beer, but Mac tugs it out of his reach.

“I’d rather be playing video games or watching a movie or something, dude,” Mac says.

“So take her to a movie.”

“Dennis,” he groans. “It’s not the same.”

After one more sip of beer, he passes the can back to Dennis to share. They split the rest of it, back and forth until it’s all drained. Mac crushes it on the ground under his palm and tosses it over the fence along with the others. When he rests his hands on the blanket again, behind his back to stay propped up, his fingers brush Dennis’s. Dennis pulls his hand back before Mac can, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping both arms around them.

Mac’s head lolls to the side, eying him.

“You cold, bro?” he asks.

“No, I’m fine.” Dennis picks at a thread on the blanket for a while, watching his nail work. His face is blank when he finally looks up at Mac again to ask, “So when are you supposed to be picking Aubrey up?”

Mac groans, falling onto his back with his arms splayed out.

“I told you,” he says, punching one fist up into the air. “I’m not going!”

Dennis lays down next to him. They seem closer together now they’re both lying down, especially when Mac shifts, readjusting his shoulders against the earth.

“Well if you don’t, I will,” says Dennis, teasingly, reaching out to jab him in the side so that Mac recoils from him with a laugh; he’s sensitive there. “What’s the big deal, bro? She’s a very pretty girl, you know. And I hear she’s a total slut, if you know what I mean. She’ll definitely put out.”

Mac frowns up at the sky. It’s darkening fast, almost all the pink shot out by now, the darker colors creeping in across the horizon.

“What if they play something slow?”

Dennis’s brow furrows. “Then take her by the waist and slow dance, Mac. The hell do you mean?”

Mac sighs. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, until he starts to see stars beneath them.

“Forget it,” he says, louder than before, “never mind.”

Mac pushes himself up so he’s sitting again. Even though he’s taller than him now, since Dennis is still on his back, the rules of perching don’t seem to apply here; it still feels as though Dennis has the upper hand, gazing at him from flat on the ground.

“I just don’t want to,” Mac says, huffy. He crosses his arms. “Forget it. I’ll go on the stupid date. God.”

He’s frowning across the yard, but he can still see it from the corner of his eye when Dennis slowly pushes himself up until he’s sitting too. His bare legs spread out on the blanket and Mac finds himself trailing his gaze up them when he turns his focus back on Dennis, sulky.

“Mac,” he says slowly, an awful smile curling his mouth, “do you not know how to dance?”

“Shut up,” says Mac. He reaches out and slugs Dennis pretty hard on the arm, so that he pulls back and rubs his shoulder, but he won’t stop laughing. “Of course I do, Dennis. There’s nothing _complicated_ —”

“I’ve seen you dance before,” says Dennis. “You’ve come to my frat parties before—”

“That’s different,” Mac complains. “That’s just, like, drunken grinding or jumping around. This is…It’s different!”

“Intimate?” Dennis suggests.

“I just told you I’ve grinded before!”

“No, I know,” says Dennis.

He’s still smiling, but it’s not so mean anymore. When Mac turns to look at him, he’s got something lurking in his expression that Mac can’t quite parse: Soothing and open, almost affectionate in his teasing. Mac frowns, punching at the blanket until it smooths out under his fist.

Dennis gets to his feet after a minute or so, and Mac never once feels the burning pressure of his stare lift from the side of Mac’s face. He glances up after a while, braced for the worst. Dennis extends a hand.

“Stand up for a second,” Dennis says, easy. Mac’s lips are parted, watching him, until Dennis snaps at him a little impatiently. Mac quickly grabs his hand and lets Dennis pull him up too.

He doesn’t let go once Mac’s beside him, though, tightening his hand when Mac tries to pull away.

“What’s…happening?”

Dennis tugs him off of the blanket. The grass is soft and ticklish on his bare feet, but he forgets that as soon as Dennis pulls on him and they fall together, chest to chest.

“Dennis—”

“I’m gonna show you what to do,” he says firmly. “That way you’ll be ready when Aubrey asks. Okay?”

Mac rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need _lessons_ on how to _slow dance_ , Dennis,” he sighs, his hand tightening around Dennis’s. “It’s fairly straightforward, I’m pretty sure—”

Dennis shushes him quietly. He’s annoyed about it for exactly as long as it takes him to register that Dennis is brushing a full hand through his hair, cupping the back of his head for just a second before running it down to lay on Mac’s shoulder. Mac swallows.

“Hand on my waist,” Dennis murmurs, and their faces are so close together that their noses brush when Dennis nods at him.

The palm in Dennis’s is beginning to sweat. Mac readjusts, squeezing, and rests his other on Dennis’s hip as lightly as he possibly can. He can still feel him, all the heat rising off his body even through his clothes, heady and intoxicating and enticing as hell. From this distance Mac can smell his cologne, too, and it’s nearly as enthralling. Dennis shifts closer, clearing his throat.

“Pretend something romantic is playing,” Dennis says.

He pulls his hand out of Mac’s to cup both around the back of his neck, and he begins to sway.

Mac shivers. His suddenly free hand gropes uselessly in the air for an embarrassing amount of time before he brings it to the other side of Dennis’s waist. He pushes in against Dennis’s t-shirt, hoping the pressure will stop them from shaking.

“Move a little, Mac. Goddamn,” Dennis laughs. “You’re just standing there.”

Mac stumbles a bit in his haste to move his feet. He reddens more, hoping Dennis won’t be too hard on him, but knowing it’s most likely a lost cause.

When he glances up, though, Dennis only nods encouragingly.

“That’s it. There you go,” he says. He pulls himself closer, draping his arms over Mac’s shoulders. “You’re supposed to be leading, remember.”

“I don’t…” Mac’s eyebrows pull together. He huffs, annoyed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“What do you think it means?” Dennis says, sharper than he’s spoken yet. Mac glances nervously at the house behind them as they turn in another circle. “Hey, asshole. Keep your eyes on me. Nobody’s home.”

“I know,” says Mac. He feels jittery, nerves jumping beneath his skin. That’s probably why he’s erupting in goosebumps, it must be, because the air is still warm with all the heaviness of July. “I just don’t want someone to—”

“Hey. Hey,” says Dennis, and there’s that voice again: sunset incarnate. He touches Mac’s chin with two fingers, pulling his face back toward his own. Mac swallows hard and Dennis wraps his arms around his neck again. “I’ll help you, okay? I’ll lead from here to show you what to do. Then you just copy it from your position later.”

“It’s just weird,” Mac groans. He pulls away from Dennis, who doesn’t stop him but does stare after him: There’s something uncomfortably bereft about the way Dennis is looking at him, barefoot in the middle of his lawn, arms limp at his sides without Mac’s shoulders to rest them on. Mac tears his eyes away, wringing his hands. “It’s not gonna be anything like this!”

Dennis sighs. When he takes a step nearer again, Mac holds his breath and lets him.

“What will help?” says Dennis.

Mac squints at him. “Why are trying so hard at this anyway, Dennis? What do you care if I look like a jackass on my date?”

“Because we’re best friends,” Dennis says, voice clipped. “That means _you_ reflect on _me_ , baby boy, so I can’t have you running around making an asshole out of yourself and ruining dates with exceptionally beautiful women. Besides,” he adds, stepping closer again, so they’re nearly as nose-to-nose as they were before, “Aubrey has some _very_ pretty friends. I won’t let you screw up an opportunity to introduce to me them.”

He smiles, not the special one he gives to Mac but his usual asshole grin full of self-satisfaction and too much pride. It soothes him, bizarrely; here’s a Dennis he knows, one familiar and not at all scary. One that he can work with. Mac rolls his eyes and steps up against him, winding his arms fully around Dennis’s waist, and he isn’t shaking anymore.

“Alright then, fine,” he grits out. Dennis folds his arms back over Mac’s shoulders and Mac yanks him in harshly, and Dennis laughs, breath fanning across Mac’s mouth. Mac narrows his eyes. “Have it your way.”

He must not seem very threatening from up this close, because Dennis leans his forehead on Mac’s for a fraction of a second.

“I always do,” Dennis assures him.

They begin to step through the grass again. Dennis is a much more confident leader than him, guiding them confidently, murmuring to Mac about where to put his feet. After awhile he asks if Mac wants to try again. He really doesn’t — would rather let Dennis keep being in charge of spinning them in circles around the backyard — but he nods tightly.

“I’ll be right here,” Dennis coos. Mac rolls his eyes and takes a step back, pulling Dennis with him. He keeps his eyes on the floor, focusing hard on where he’s stepping.

Above him, Dennis begins to hum.

“What are you doing?” Mac whispers. It sounds harsh to his own ears based on how his heartrate just skyrocketed.

“Thought it might help you out to have some music to go along to.”

It is helpful, once Mac’s pulse evens out again. He isn’t keeping time, but it’s soothing, somehow — helps him focus on something besides the press of their bodies and not stepping on Dennis’s toes. Their dancing feels a lot less practiced and formal than what Dennis was doing, and they aren’t cutting as wide of a path anymore; Mac keeps them confined to a fairly tight circle, spinning them endlessly in place beside the blanket. After a while, breaking his tune for a second to sigh softly, Dennis leans his cheek against Mac’s shoulder and nestles in toward his throat.

Whatever easy tune he’s humming is right up against Mac’s ear now, and Mac feels him nudge in even closer. Heat gushes down his back in a cascade. Hesitating for just a second, Mac lets his eyes close and he lays his cheek against Dennis’s hair.

They spin in their little asymmetric circle, footsteps uneven in the grass, as the night settles in for real around them. Dennis’s quiet humming doesn’t abate, leaping through tunes — some Mac almost recognizes as he snags on a melody here and there, others he’s pretty sure Dennis is making up entirely. He curls his arms more snugly around Dennis’s body and feels Dennis reach to play idly with his hair.

After a while the pale blue of an early night sky begins to creep toward a deeper color, indigo-adjacent. Mac clutches at his back, nails digging in, for a moment before he steps back and his hands slide away — they linger, touching at Dennis’s waist, until Dennis’s hum comes to a pause mid-note. He leans his head up and drops his arms from around Mac’s neck. When Dennis blinks at him, drowsy and slow, he looks as though he’s awakening from a very deep sleep.

Mac clears his throat.

“It’s getting late,” he says, but he still sounds hoarse. His throat is dry, and he blames all the beer he’s had with no water to break them all up.

“Oh — Right,” Dennis says, rubbing at one of his eyes with a knuckle. He looks very young in a loose green t-shirt and baggy shorts, standing barefoot on his lawn. Mac swallows and takes a long moment before he can look away. “You have a date.”

“Yeah,” Mac says, gruff and quiet. He scuffs at the dirt with one foot, filthening his first few toes. It will stain his socks when he pulls them back on; it doesn’t matter, since he’ll give his laundry for Dennis’s maid to take care of like he’s been doing for months. Mac chews on the inside of his cheek and glances back up. “So, um—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dennis says, holding a hand out. Mac slaps his palm, rote; it’s a handshake they’ve been doing since high school, although now that Mac thinks about it he can’t remember the last time they left that way. Can’t remember the last time they parted for longer than it took to sleep, not since summer began. Dennis points at him. “We have tickets to that new horror flick, remember?”

“I know, Dennis.” Mac rolls his eyes. “You made me roll each of us our own joint for it.”

Dennis splits into a grin, and it seems sincere.

“Cool,” he says. “Have fun tonight, then.”

Dennis’s smile turns lewd, makes Mac’s cheeks redden again. He ducks down to pull his shoes back on for something to do. Dennis isn’t looking at him anymore, has already thrown himself back down to the blanket. He’s humming again, but it isn’t soft like before, skipping blithely through some radio remix instead. Mac stands and mumbles something nonsensical to him when he begins to back away, already running through the lies he’s going to tell Dennis tomorrow when he gets pressed for details. He knows he probably won’t get past second base tonight, but Dennis likes a show.

Mac turns when he’s at the edge of the yard, running a hand through his hair. He’s gonna wave goodbye. Gonna call out to him, gonna do something.

Dennis is facing away from him, sprawled on the blanket and looking up at the sky. As Mac watches, he takes a drink out of a new can of beer that he must have just cracked open. Mac swallows; he turns, shoving his half-aloft hand into his pocket. Without looking back again, he takes a left out of the Reynolds’s driveway and starts off toward town.

**Author's Note:**

> [original ask](https://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/184927294690)
> 
> [post the ask was about](https://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/184923471705)


End file.
